


Be Your Teenage Dream Tonight

by hapakitsune



Category: Buzzfeed Unsolved (Web Series)
Genre: Banter, Car Sex, Crossdressing, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-16
Updated: 2018-08-16
Packaged: 2019-06-28 03:36:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15699351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hapakitsune/pseuds/hapakitsune
Summary: Shane wears a cheerleader outfit for #content and things get weird.





	Be Your Teenage Dream Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> I asked if there was cheerleading outfit fic based on [this Test Friends video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EwGCEQ-2P9Q) and was told none (there very well might be some that we haven't found). so I wrote some. this is exceptionally fictional. if you are familiar with either person whose likeness are used, this is probably not your thing. also i'm legitimately falling asleep as I type this so my apologies.
> 
> as always hit me up on twitter (@hkafterdark) if you questions about content or something

“Hey,” Shane said, and Ryan looked up, tugging down his headphones. It took him a moment to realize what he was seeing, and then he started to grin, looking Shane over. 

“So,” Ryan said, “this is the punishment.” 

Shane tugged at the bottom of the bright yellow cheerleader’s skirt and shrugged, half-grinning. “Yeah. What do you think?”

“Very fetching,” Ryan said. “Show off them gams. You guys done with the shoot?”

“Yep.” Shane dropped into the chair next to Ryan, leaning back. “Maycie wants you to come to the last session, you up for it?”

“Uh, sure,” Ryan said. “What’s with the tights?”

“I couldn’t be flashing everyone,” Shane said indignantly. “Although I gotta tell you, they’re starting to feel a bit restrictive.” He pulled at the bit of bright pink fabric over his knee, letting it snap against his skin. “And I’m all sweaty too, so it’s getting pretty moist down there.”

“Gross.” Ryan kicked at Shane’s chair, watched it roll a few inches away. “I don’t need to know that, dude.”

“Sure ya do, _dude_ ,” Shane said. He spun his chair in a circle, then got up, stretching his arms over his head. “Maybe I should have gone to more of the sessions.”

“Probably,” Ryan agreed, turning back to his laptop and the script for the next Unsolved episode. “Go back to work.”

“Yeah, yeah,” Shane said before wandering off. Ryan put his headphones back on and returned to work. At some point, he sensed Shane sit back down, hopefully with his laptop this time, but didn’t look up, too engrossed in sorting out the particularly spooky shit he wanted to share. A little girl ghost who wanted people to play with her? Sold!

The call of nature sounded around forty-five minutes later, and he rose to head to the bathroom, only to stop when he saw Shane was, inexplicably, still wearing the cheerleader’s outfit, but sans tights now. 

“Are you gonna wear that all day?” he asked.

Shane shrugged without looking up. “That was the terms of the punishment.”

“Okay,” Ryan said. He realized he was looking at Shane’s knee. He couldn’t remember if he had ever seen Shane’s bare knee before. He must have, Shane was a sane person who wore shorts when it was hot. They’d been to the beach together. But—

“Yo,” Shane said. “You okay, Ryan? You see a ghost?” 

“Fuck off,” Ryan said automatically, and he went off to the bathroom. 

\-----

Ryan was on his way out of the offices when he heard Shane call, “Hey, wait up!” He stopped at the elevator bank and waited for Shane to jog up to him, that stupid skirt bouncing up and down and revealing, wow, _quite a bit_ of pale upper thigh. 

“I see now why the tights were necessary,” he said. 

“Right?” Shane came to a stop, sticking his right leg out and planting a hand on his hip. “I think real cheerleaders get little shorts or something, but this had none of that.”

“Where did they even pick up a cheerleader’s costume in your size?” Ryan asked, pressing the down button for the elevator. “Did they have to get it made custom?”

“I don’t ask questions,” Shane said, which was a complete and utter lie. 

They took the elevator down and headed out to the parking lot together in comfortable silence. As they drew close to Ryan’s car, Shane said, “I bet you have a lot of experience with cheerleader outfits.”

“What is _that_ supposed to mean?”

“Nothing! Just, you know, you’re a jock.” Shane reached out and squeezed Ryan’s arm. “Look at these guns. You’re telling me you never took a cheerleader out behind the bleachers?”

“You’re making it sound like I’m a _serial killer_ ,” Ryan said. “No. I wasn’t—I wasn’t, like, you know, a football player or whatever in high school, I wasn’t fuckin’ Tim Riggins.”

“Good reference,” Shane said. He leaned his elbow on the roof of Ryan’s car, angling his hips like he was trying for a sexy Mrs. Robinson kind of pose. “Don’t you think I’d have made a good cheerleader?”

Ryan rolled his eyes and took out his keys. “Yes. You’d have been great. Let me into my car.”

“Hey, Quarterback Bergara,” Shane said in a falsetto. He reached out, touched one finger to Ryan’s chest, just below his collarbones. “I thought you were real swell in the game against West High on Friday.”

“West High? Is that the best you can come up with?” Ryan batted Shane’s hand away, but Shane just flicked his gaze up coyly, looking at Ryan through his lashes for a brief, electric moment before dropping his eyes again. 

Ryan noticed, distantly, that his hand was starting to sweat around the metal keyring.

“I just, you know, think you’re the coolest guy in school,” Shane said. He touched Ryan’s chest again, lower this time, just the light touch of his index finger through the cotton of Ryan’s shirt, and Ryan’s muscles tensed involuntarily. “And rumor has it you and Jenny Peters broke up last week.”

“Shane,” Ryan said, voice unexpectedly hoarse, lower than usual. “I—”

“I was wondering,” Shane said, “if you’d give me a ride home?” He lifted his head and met Ryan’s eyes directly. He was half-smiling that little shit-eating grin he would get when he was pleased with himself, but his gaze was intent, hunting. Ryan knew, as clearly as he knew his own name, that if he said no, if he pushed Shane away, Shane would play it off as a joke and that it would never come up again. That he was the one who had to make the choice here. 

He looked down at Shane’s knees, at the inches of pale leg between them and that ridiculous skirt. Without consciously deciding to, he found himself laying his hand on Shane’s leg, on that bare patch of skin, his thumb just a little higher than the skirt’s hem. He felt, rather than heard, Shane’s swift inhale of breath. Without looking up, Ryan dragged his hand upward, catching the skirt between his thumb and index finger and taking it with him, getting just a brief brush of soft, _god_ , soft and hot skin—

Shane slapped his knuckles. “Hey,” he said. “I’m not that kind of girl.” He looked around, half-smiled again, and added, “At least not in our office’s parking lot.”

“Oh,” Ryan said, “right.” He laughed, half-embarrassed, half-hysterical. “I forgot about that part.”

“So about that ride,” Shane prompted, and Ryan was fumbling his keys out again, nodding and saying something, hopefully coherent though given how he was now achingly, furiously hard, he didn’t have much faith in that. Shane flashed him a grin and straightened up, suddenly become _Shane_ again, goofy and confident, and Ryan, jesus, Ryan had never realized that Shane could be _this._

The thing was: Ryan was not that kind of guy in high school. He was too—too himself, too much of a teenaged boy. He’d dated, had a couple of girlfriends that lasted as long as prom or homecoming, but he wasn’t the guy who girls called their high school sweetheart. He wasn’t the guy who knew where make-out point was, or would be gossiped about when people went through their old yearbooks. _Remember Ryan Bergara? God, he was so dreamy, I wonder what happened to him._

But he found himself slipping into the role, channeling half a dozen teen movies as he flicked on the music, stretched his arm out to brush the back of Shane’s neck as he back out of his parking space, letting his hand trail across Shane’s bare bicep. “I know a place we can go,” he said, and he turned onto Highland with no real plan for where he was going. 

Dusk in LA was a coin toss when it came to traffic, but there wasn’t a game up at Dodgers Stadium and most of the students weren’t back yet, so it was easy to glide onto the freeway, racking his mind for literally any sufficiently darkened corner. A distant part of his brain observed that he was stressing more about where to park than about _fucking Shane, his coworker and friend_ , jesus, what a monumentally terrible idea. 

Out of the corner of his eye, he could see the hard bulge of Shane’s dick beneath the thin skirt. 

Griffith Park, he thought, a fucking eureka moment for the twenty-first century. He took the next exit with a hard lane change that made the car behind him honk. Beside him, Shane reclined his seat back a few inches and spread his legs, a casual sprawl that wasn’t particularly in character but did make his skirt ride up. 

“You’re an asshole,” Ryan said with feeling. Shane started laughing, so obviously pleased with himself that it was both infuriating and endearing. “What the fuck are we doing?”

“Shh,” Shane said. “You’ll ruin the moment.” 

“The _moment_ where you _propositioned me_ while in a cheerleader’s uniform?” 

“You said yes,” Shane reminded him. “You’re the one driving us to Lover’s Lane.”

“There isn’t any Lover’s Lane,” Ryan said irritably. “This isn’t fucking _Pleasantville_.”

“Ooh, good pull.” Shane grinned over at him, giddy and smug. “What can I say? I cut a striking figure in this outfit.”

“You’re insufferable,” Ryan informed him. 

“You love it.”

“Mm, maybe.” Ryan spotted a promising-looking back street and took a right, coasting until he found a dark spot beneath a tree that badly needed some pruning. He threw his car into park and then sat with his hands on the wheel, heart clawing at his throat, and tried to rearrange the last few hours in his head. How he had gotten from mocking Shane at the office to parked beneath a tree with the intention of boning down. He wondered, offhandedly, if he was possessed. 

Shane said, “We don’t have to, uh. I mean, maybe you’re saving yourself for marriage.” His voice canted up at the end, betraying the real sentiment beneath his flippant words. 

“No,” Ryan said. “I’m not.” He forced his hands to uncurl, palms separating from the leather with a quick _schlick_. He turned, channeled John Travolta in _Grease_ , and smiled at Shane, lifting his arm to drop around Shane’s shoulders. “Just thinking how lucky I am to have you here.”

Shane lifted his eyebrows, lips compressing as he fought a smile. “I bet you say that to all the girls.”

“Just the pretty ones,” Ryan deadpanned. They grinned at each other, awkwardness fading away, and then Ryan leaned over the center console to kiss Shane. 

It had been a while since Ryan had made out in a car, and it was just as deeply uncomfortable and inconvenient as he remembered. More so, even, because Shane was taller than any of Ryan’s girlfriends, and also they were a little fumbly with each other. Ryan yelped into Shane’s mouth when he shifted wrong and bumped his elbow against the gearshift, and Shane kept moving like he was trying to get over to Ryan’s side before remembering where they were. Finally, Ryan pulled back and said, “Get in the fucking backseat already,” and Shane started laughing. 

“We should have gone to a Motel 6,” he said. 

“In that outfit?” Ryan asked. 

“I’m sure they’ve seen weirder. It’s LA. Okay, hold on a second.” Shane pushed Ryan off and got out of the car to get in back. Ryan took a moment to adjust his dick—which was a mistake, _jesus_ , he’d been doing such a good job of not thinking about how hard he was and then he had to _touch_ it like an _idiot_ —before joining him. 

“Tight squeeze,” Ryan remarked as he clambered in. Shane had laid back against the opposite door, stupidly long legs stretched out in front of them, and for a moment Ryan went a bit tunnel vision at the long, long expanse of Shane’s legs, completely bare all the way up to that stupid fucking skirt. 

“See something you like?” Shane asked with a smirk. Ryan glared at him, pushed his legs further apart so he could kneel between them, and pushed the skirt up to Shane’s hips. He was wearing briefs, light blue darkening over the hard line of his cock, and just the sight of that made Ryan shudder with anticipation. He glanced up at Shane, who gave him an obnoxious _go on_ gesture. Ryan flipped him off and then leaned down to put his mouth right over the damp fabric over the head, sliding his hands up the length of Shane’s legs.

Shane kicked Ryan in the arm on accident, which was both painful and flattering. Ryan ignored the sting in his arm, focusing instead on peeling down the elastic band of Shane’s briefs and exposing the red, leaking head of his cock. Ryan licked along the underside, Shane convulsing in response, and asked, “Is this about the skirt or about whatever that high school stuff was?”

“Uh,” Shane said. “I can’t—” Ryan closed his lips around the head without using his tongue, and Shane shook again, hips pushing up until Ryan clamped down on his thighs and shoved him back down. “What was the question?”

Ryan pulled off. “I mean, are you horny as fuck because of the skirt, or did you put on the skirt and then start your little high school routine and then get turned on?”

“Um, both, a little?” Shane said. “I mean, you know, putting on the outfit is a little—there’s something kind of _intriguing_ about it, not like it’s a thing, but—fuck you, Ryan,” he added as Ryan trailed his hand back behind his balls, touch featherlight. “And then I, you know, and _oh_ , uh, I wanted it.” 

All of which was very interesting, but Ryan had just discovered that Shane had an extremely sensitive ass and so was more preoccupied with lightly pressing his fingers along the rim of Shane’s hole than listening to how they had gotten there in the first place. They weren’t really equipped to really get down and dirty—plus Ryan was vaguely worried about someone, eventually, driving by—so he couldn’t take his time like he wanted to and really just get in there. 

“Are you even listening to me?” Shane asked, voice pitching upwards indignantly. 

“Hey, bend your knees,” Ryan said. “We don’t got a lot of room in here with your seven foot long legs taking up all the space.”

“Weren’t complaining about my legs earlier,” Shane muttered, but he spread his legs accommodatingly. Ryan hitched his arms beneath Shane’s knees, awkwardly clambering onto the back seat so that he was kneeling in the vee of Shane’s thighs. 

“Hi,” Ryan said. 

“Hi,” Shane said. He was very pink, his hair even wilder than usual, and he was half-smiling. “So what’s the plan, lover boy?”

“Not sure,” Ryan admitted. “I can’t be in this position for too long or I’ll have a weird neck problem to explain to the doctor.”

“Well,” Shane said, “there’s an easy solution for that,” and he reached up with one of his freakishly long arms to pull Ryan down into a kiss. Ryan slid his hands under the little cheerleader top, wanted to make a joke about getting to second base, but given he’d just had his mouth on Shane’s dick that was probably a little belated already. Shane kissed him lazily, like they had all the time in the world and they weren’t half-hanging out of a car on a public street, his hands moving down Ryan’s arms and squeezing seemingly at random, caressing the backs of his biceps, the curve of his shoulders. Ryan, for his part, lost himself in the luxurious slide of Shane’s mouth against his, the slick pressure of his tongue and the soft scrape of teeth when they shifted weird. 

“Are you gonna do anything with that dick or just grind up against me?” Shane asked eventually. “’Cause I’m kind of hanging out here for god and country to see and you haven’t even unzipped yet.”

“You can just ask to see my dick, you know,” Ryan said. 

“Oh Ryan,” Shane said, flat. “Give me that good dick. Give it to me hard.”

“You asshole,” Ryan said. He was grinning so hard his face was starting to hurt and, well, his dick was ready to kick down a door at this point, so— “Aren’t you gonna say please?”

He meant it as a joke, but to his shock Shane shivered a little. Ryan stared down at Shane, so close to his face that he could count his eyelashes if he had a lot more time and patience, and saw Shane’s brief, lightning quick glance up, the way his lower lip moved just a little, like he was biting the inside of his mouth. Ryan pushed his hips forward, dragging his jeans against the sensitive insides of Shane’s thighs, and was rewarded with Shane saying, “All right. Please.”

Ryan hadn’t quite thought ahead to the part was still wearing his damn jeans, and he had to pull back to wrestle with his zipper, shoving his jeans down just enough to get his dick out. Shane rolled his eyes when he realized what Ryan was going for. 

“I guess we really are going for that teenage sex experience,” he said. He hooked his heel behind Ryan’s hips, urging him back, and Ryan fell forward onto Shane, knocking the breath from him. 

“Sorry!” Ryan said, but then he moved and their dicks moved together, and _wow_ , okay, that was a lot, better than it should have been, and maybe it was because the door was still half-open and Shane was in a goddamn cheerleader’s outfit, but Ryan had never been more turned on in his life. It was burning inside him, spreading butterfly-flutters of heat through his stomach, his fingers, his legs. The rush of it, of having Shane beneath him, was nearly overwhelming: too much possibility was before him. 

Shane solved that problem by kicking Ryan in the ass and jolting him forward. Which, _oh_ , was nice, the warmth of Shane’s body against his dick, so Ryan thrust again, nudging against Shane’s balls. Shane sighed, reaching up to pull Ryan back, and they were kissing, sloppier this time as their movement nudged their lips, teeth together. Ryan found his hands were beneath Shane’s top again, and he moved his hands up until he found Shane’s nipples, and Shane was rutting up against him with a frenetic, uncontrolled rhythm. Ryan bore down, dick pressing into that damp heat, and all he could think about was how much he’d like to lift Shane’s legs—or flip him over if Shane couldn’t handle that, who knew how flexible the guy was—and fuck down into him, that skirt flipped over his waist, dirty and desperate. 

“Wish we’d thought this out better,” he said between thrusts. “I want you bent over the seat.”

“Dirty,” Shane gasped, grinning. “You just want my ass that bad?”

“In that skirt, I want just about everything,” Ryan said. “But we don’t exactly have the time.” He kissed the corner of Shane’s mouth and dropped his head to rest at Shane’s neck. “But think, you in that outfit and us with time, time enough to get you nice and wet like you should be.” He was babbling now, spilling out desires he hadn’t even realized he had, lost in the steady roll of pleasure from the movement of their bodies. “And then I could slide inside you so easily, god, that’d be fucking good—”

“Ryan, if you don’t put your hand on my dick in the next thirty seconds I’m going to rip yours off,” Shane said through gritted teeth. Ryan glanced down and saw that Shane’s dick was deeply flushed with blood, shining at the head, and when he reached between them to wrap his hand around the base, Shane arched up, hand banging against the driver’s seat as he started to come in thick, strong pulses that added new stripes to the uniform. 

Ryan stroked him through it, fascinated Shane seemed to go through aftershocks of orgasm, weakly pulsing and shaking even once he’d relaxed down to the seat. Finally Shane croaked, “That’s enough,” and Ryan fell upon him, taking some of the come to slick up his own cock. Shane licked his lips, eyes flicking from Ryan’s hand to his face, and Ryan grinned down at him as he jerked himself, hard and fast, until he was starting to come and stumbling forward to kiss Shane as he did, spending against the inside of Shane’s thighs. 

He was breathing like he’d run a marathon, his heart galloping at Triple Crown speed, and beneath him Shane was still shivering at every shift of Ryan’s body, a new ripple going through him when Ryan moved his knee off the edge of the seat and incidentally pressed their softening dicks together. e

“Hey, so,” Shane said eventually. His voice was fucked out, low, drawling, like he got when he was at his most exhausted. “We’re kind of on a public street, and I’m not really feeling a public indecency charge. What do you say we take this show on the road?”

“I’m not really down for road head,” Ryan said. “Pretty sure that’s how you die in a horrible accident.”

Shane laughed and kissed Ryan’s temple. “Not that, I mean, uh. Wanna come back to mine? I say mine because I don’t have any extra clothes in this car.”

“Are we—is this going to be a thing?” Ryan asked. He finally worked up the energy to sit up, wincing as their cooling skin slipped apart with an unpleasant noise, and began tucking himself back into place. “Like, you mean we’re not just going to walk away and pretend this never happened, because I can totally do that if you want.”

“I absolutely do _not_ want, you promised me fucking!” Shane said indignantly. 

“When did I do that?”

“It was implied in your dirty talk, which by the way, kudos, was quite good.” Shane primly flipped the skirt back down to cover him, though he was so rumpled and stained there was really nothing to be done. He caught Ryan’s eye and batted his eyelashes. “I wanted to go _all the way_ , stud, and you just gave me third base. I could get that from Tommy Steve.”

“Tommy Steve?” Ryan said. “ _Tommy Steve?_ Shane, no human on this earth has ever been named Tommy Steve.”

Shane pushed himself into a sitting position. His legs were still bracketing Ryan, and, stupidly, Ryan felt very aware of how close they were. My dick was just between his legs! he reminded himself. I have his come on my hands!

“Hey,” Shane said, raising his hands to cradle Ryan’s face. “You can say no. But I’m inviting you because, damn, that was fun, and what the hell, why shouldn’t we have sex? Come over and we can order in food and watch a movie that’ll scare you and then—whatever.”

“That sounds like a date,” Ryan said. 

“Okay,” Shane said agreeably. “It’s a date.”

Ryan considered Shane, considered the car—considered the fact that they worked together every damn day and filmed a show together— and considered that he really would like to bend Shane over the arm of a couch in that skirt. Even though it was Shane. Well. Maybe because it was Shane. 

“Fuck,” Ryan said. “Why the hell not? We’ve done stupider things. Your place isn’t haunted, is it?”

“First of all, there’s no such thing as ghosts, and second of all, you’ve _been_ there before.” Shane kicked Ryan’s knee. “Now get out so I can breathe the fresh air.”

“You make it sound like I imprisoned you,” Ryan grumbled, but he backed out and even gave Shane a hand up. He was about to circle around to the driver’s seat when Shane suddenly grabbed him and gave him a searing, but oddly sweet, kiss. “Uh?”

“I just—I want you to know I mean it,” Shane said. “Date. If you want. Or whatever.”

“I think I do want,” Ryan said, which was an understatement and a half. “I, uh, yeah. Yeah, fuck it, what’s the worst that can happen?”

“Murder suicide?” Shane suggested. 

“At least my ghost can finally prove to your ghost that we’re real,” Ryan said. He leaned up, brushed a quick peck against Shane’s mouth, and finally went to his side of the car. When he settled into the driver’s seat, Shane had already buckled in, eyes playfully lowered. 

“Thanks for giving me a ride,” he said, completely straight-faced. 

“Oh my god,” Ryan said, starting the ignition. “Is it too late to take back? The sex? To take back the sex?”

“Forget it baby, I’ll always know,” Shane said. “You can’t hide that hot bod from me.”

“Oh my god,” Ryan said again, and he stepped on the acceleration to get the hell out of whatever neighborhood they’d defiled. He glanced back over his shoulder before he turned out of the street, and then he got back on the major streets, his headlights set toward Shane’s home. _  
_


End file.
